


The Legend of Voro

by miguelvdvelden



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29111043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miguelvdvelden/pseuds/miguelvdvelden
Summary: Voro has been hiding the fact that he's a firebender for as long as he can remember. Born on the island of To Kochili, a forgotten Earth Kingdom island with a complicated history, he had more freedom than he could ever had wished for growing up--as long as he stayed firmly rooted to the earth. For years he accepted his fate, even as older siblings moved to Republic City for a better future. But when his little brother dies in a blameful accident, he decides it's finally time to leave the island for good.





	1. Chapter 1

_It looks like crushed cement._

That's the only thing I can think as I stare at my brother's ashes flowing from the urn. It's a calm, sunny day and the ashes aren't picked up and carried on the wind. Instead, they fall into the ocean in clumps that sink with determination.

I'm the only one on the boat that's looking at the ashes, even though my dad has the urn in his hands. He's looking my way instead, but his eyes aren't fixed on anything. Tears hang from his cheeks. My mother, at the other end of the boat, is staring at her hands.

When the urn is empty, I put my hand on my dad's shoulder so he knows to wrap his arms around the urn again and step back. I take his place on the bow. My eyes skim across the water to the base of the cliffs that surround us, then up to the bodies stood on the cliff edges, a row of maybe a hundred villagers holding hands, fifty feet above us. They're waiting for something. For the _pena i koa_. For me.

The _pena i koa_ is a mourning song sacred to the island. Only here, in this bay, can it be sung; when practicing, one can only sing it indoors, in whispers. Some people only hear it once in their life. Some people never sing it at all. Those are the lucky ones--the people who have never lost those closest to them.

When my voice meets the first tone, I finally understand why we only ever sing the _pena i koa_ here, in this bay, and not in any other. Why we never put all of ourselves into it until we are mourning. The tone skids across the water like ice and is echoed as it rises up the cliff walls. Up there, the villagers just hear my voice, but down here, it sounds like a million people are singing the sacred song back at me.

When I hear them, those hundred spirits, everything goes blurry. I need to pinch my eyes shut so I can keep going, so my voice won't break.

The _pena i koa_ is about a 5-minute song, but in all that time, only a few lines are sung that are repeated over and over. The song sings of grief first, of the shattering effect of death, and then of courage. The courage to go on without a person to lean on; the courage to believe you will see them again one day, even if you don't know it to be true; and the courage to love them still, even if nothing hurts more. Finally, it sings of the courage to forgive, in case the death was someone else's fault.

The last verse, about forgiveness, is the most soothing of all. You're not expected to suddenly forgive someone because of singing a song, of course, but it's supposed to be the first step in the healing process. I don't sing it. Instead, the song drops off, and there is a moment of silence and anticipation.

I look at my mother, who is still staring at her hands, and I have the sudden urge to vomit. My hands feel hot, too hot, and so does my face. I know this feeling because it's the one I've been hiding from all my life, that feeling of anger that gives rise to fire when you don't know how to control it. If I don't do something now, I know my hands will come ablaze, and it would destroy my family by bringing to light the only secret we ever kept. It would feel good to do that, finally to make an end to the weakness and the deceit. But my little brother's death would be for nothing.

So I don't let the fire rise to my fingertips. As the villagers' voices rise in a cheer and the flower petals they held in their hands come raining down the bay, I dive after my brother's ashes. I plunge into the cold water and keep going, down and down and down, until I can't see my hands in the darkness. Only then do I see with clarity all that I've been holding on to, and I let it drop with the ashes.

My family, my identity, my island, plunging into the depths.

Tomorrow I will gather my things and follow.


	2. Chapter 2

The moon is full and the tide high when I make way down to the ferry the next day.

The ferry between To Kochili and the mainland is the island's biggest ship, a wooden thing powered by a paddle wheel that I used to marvel at as a kid. Even today, anticipating the sway of the boat under my feet, I feel a sense of wonder and excitement mingling with the clump of fear in my stomach.

In my 21 years of life, I have never been off To Kochili island. My family lives off of gathering shellfish and a technique of fishing called mudnetting. Essentially, nets are placed at strategic points in the shallow sea and then mud is pulled up from the seabed to drive fish from deeper areas into the nets. Needless to say, I was no good at it growing up, seeing as I couldn't earthbend, and so I was mostly left to gather shellfish on the shore with my mom and little brother while my dad and older siblings went to fish.

All of this is to say that we didn't exactly have money to spare or time to go on holidays to the mainland. In any case, most families on the island were born, lived and died there, and I never really expected mine would be any different. I could trace my family back over nearly five hundred centuries, and in all that time there were only a handful of ancestors who weren't born on the island, and none who didn't die there. Until now, I had no reason to believe I wouldn't die there too.

Of course, the few ancestors who did come from elsewhere--firebenders most of them, like my mother, like me, like my dead brother--will probably end up defining the rest of my life. The great cosmic joke and all.

As I make it to the harbour and catch sight of the great wooden ferry, my spirit lifts again. The waves are lapping on the shore and from somewhere in the darkness, the eerie screams of a troop of hog monkeys rises into the air. I lift my backpack higher onto my shoulder and stare at the few coins in my hand that my father gave me.

"Enough to catch the ferry," he said, and little more. I couldn't shake the empty look in his eyes when he told me goodbye. No disappointment, no anger, just nothing. My mother was the opposite; crying, begging me to stay. Her last child was leaving her too. She had done nothing to deserve it, I knew, but then, she had done nothing full stop. Where was the firebender in her when we needed it--when I needed it, or my dead brother?

I close my fist around the coins and get to the ferry just as the first warning horn sounds. The wind is picking up, hot and thick against my cheeks.

"Hey, Voro," the captain says, pipe in his mouth, arms crossed on top of his bulging stomach. He's an old friend of my dad's and probably a very distant uncle. "You leaving like the rest of 'em?" I'm not sure if he means the rest of my siblings or the rest of the firebenders living secret lives on this beautiful but godforsaken island. If he doesn't know I'm one of them, he probably at least suspects it. I nod.

"Got the cash right here," I say, holding out my hand. The captain laughs.

"You making your way to Republic City, I imagine," he says.

"I s'pose so."

"You know there's no jobs for fishermen, eh?" I shrug. "You gonna get yourself an education then?" I shrug again. "Well keep the cash, mate," he says finally, "you'll need it for the return ticket." With these words he marches past me and onto the deck, a trail of smoke following him closely. _Naive_ , I almost hear him think, _a naive little boy_. But I can only think to smile. He's giving me a free ride after all--my great escape is off to a good start.

\---

"Boy, you got yourself just about enough for a loaf of bread here. Not a whole goddamn ostrich horse, let alone a train ticket. You know how many miles it is walking to Republic City?"

"It's not just here, around the corner?" I ask. The merchant's bushy white eyebrows rise to her hairline.

"You think that attitude's gonna get ya anywhere?" the merchant asks.

"Look, with all due respect, sir, I'm just asking you for a map, not a loaf of bread or an ostrich horse," I say. "And yes, I'm aware Republic City's on the other side of the world. If it wasn't, I wouldn't need a map. Now, I have the coins right here, will you please help me or do I go to the next stall?"

The merchant huffs and gets off, groaning, from her seat. She swipes the coins from my hand and walks me around the back of her stall to grab one of the rolled up maps behind her. I open it as she's settling back into her seat.

"This won't even get me to Ba Sing Se!" I complain.

"Whadaya think, a great big map of the whole world's gonna help ya when you're deciding whether to head left or right on some backroad in Port Chameleon Bay?" the merchant asks. I glare at her.

"Stop lookin' at me like that, boy. Once you get to Port Chameleon Bay you follow the river all the way up to Ba Sing Se. Don't need no map for that. Now get going soon and you might get to Republic City before sundown." She starts cackling loudly then, her bony hand gripping her stall so she won't fall off her seat. I roll up the map and am about to leave when the same bony hand reaches for my wrist.

"Yer from To Kochili island, aren't ya?" she asks, her fingers like claws. Her face still has that amused look like she could start cackling again at any moment. I make an affirming noise. "Thought so, ya got an accent. My advice, boy, my advice..." she sighs and the joyful expression on her face fades away. "Head back to yer island, that's what I say. No place like home."

Finally, she lets go of me and waves me away with the same hand, making a tsk sound. My stomach growls as I start west.

\---

By the time I find an inn that day, the sun has long set and my legs are aching from all the walking. The straps of my backpack have chafed into my neck and shoulders for so long that my skin feels hot and tender under my fingertips.

The inn is situated beyond the harbour town I arrived at, an ideal place for people traveling into and out of the city, and looks relatively busy when I step inside. Travellers and townspeople are clustered together in groups, drinking and shouting. I make my way to the bartender, a girl about my age with long, dark hair and a tired look in her eyes.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asks when I sit down, already reaching for a glass.

"Actually, uh..." I start. She hesitates. "I don't have any money. I was wondering if I could so some work in exchange for food and a bed."

"Well, I'd have to ask my boss," the girl says, putting the glass. "Where are you from?"

"To Kochili," I say.

"The island?"

"Uh-huh." She looks at me again, closer this time, and her eyes soften.

"And where are you heading?"

"I... well, good question..." I chuckle, and a smile rises to her lips too, even if her eyes look tired still. She sighs and rubs the back of one hand against her forehead. Then she looks at the other waiting customers at the end of the bar and gives me a look with an apology.

"Stay here and I'll ask my boss about it at some point. But I can't promise anything. I'll bring you a water, you look like you need it," she says.

"Sure. And thanks," I reply, but she's already gone. Her hands, the way she walks, all the motions seem to ooze confidence and tiredness, but also a familiarity with the bar and her work. I get a water a few minutes later and then sit, waiting, until I realise "at some point" meant at any point that night. I pull out my map, stare at it for a while, and put it back. I consider going to sit somewhere more quiet, but scared that she'll forget me, I stay where I am. Through the window I can see the moon rising in the sky.

By the time the bartender walks back to me, the inn is half-empty, my eyes are heavy, and the moon has disappeared beyond the upper edge of the window. The girl's eyes have a sorry look in them again. She leans against the bar and crosses her arms before she talks.

"So... it's a no from my boss," she says. My heart sinks in my chest and my stomach growls. "But... my father is doing some work in construction in town and could use a hand. It's tiring work, but all he needs is a bender and he'll pay you fair."

My heart rises and sinks again. "I--" I'm not in To Kochili anymore, I think. _But still_ , says a voice in the back of my head, _be careful_. "I don't earthbend," I say finally. The girl's eyebrows lift. "I'm a non-bender," I clarify, a bit too quickly maybe. The girl's eyes soften further and a twinge of guilt and shame rises in my chest. I could've told her I was a firebender; she could've been the first person outside of my family to know. But somehow, that thought feels even more shameful.

"Well, same here," the girl says finally. "So's my dad, hence why he needs a bender." She sighs and seems to hesitate again. Finally, she leans forward. "Look, you can stay at my place if you want for a night, it's not too far from here and I have food. What do you say?"

"I--I can't," I start. She leans back and shrugs, but I backtrack quickly. "No, no, I mean, I would be very grateful. Really. I don't have anywhere else to stay."

"Then take the offer. Us non-benders gotta take care of each other, you know," she says, and without waiting for a response, she gets back to work.

\---

Dawn can't be too far away when we leave the inn and make our way back into town. The bartender introduces herself as Mea Adeiazo, two years older than me and tired of her job at the inn but with no other prospects. Even though my eyes are heavy and I feel like I could sleep in the middle of the road, Mea seems full of energy.

"I've always dreamed about moving to Republic City," she says. "I don't know, maybe it's not much better than living here, but there must be more job opportunities, even for non-benders, right? I don't know if you've heard of the automobile where you're from, but it's this carriage that drives around all by itself like magic right, and one of the biggest producers of automobiles in Republic City is a non-bender. At least that's what I heard. That's just great, isn't it? I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't have it so bad you know, it could be worse, but I also don't see myself living like this for the rest of my life, you know? And God, the amount of bendism you experience as a bartender... add that to the sexism and honestly, it's enough for anyone to go crazy."

"Bendism?" I ask, rubbing my eyes. Mea gives me a look.

"What do you call discrimination against non-benders on your island?" she asks, confused.

"I--oh--no, I mean, we don't talk about it much," I say, cheeks hot. I scratch my neck and look up at the moon.

"Hm," Mea says. "That's a shame. If we don't talk about it, nothing will ever change. But maybe it's island culture, I mean, all the people I've met from the islands around here are honestly the kindest ones. You're pretty lucky, you know. How come you're travelling around?" I open my mouth but realise I have no good answer. Not now she thinks I'm a non-bender. I scratch my neck again.

"Well... bendism, I guess," I say finally, and this brings a big smile to Mea's face. She throws an arm around me.

"Like I said, we gotta take care of each other. You seem like a good guy, uh... well, what's your name anyway?"

"Voro. Voro Sotiris."

"Okay then. You're a good guy, Voro Sotiris." Mea yawns for the first time and stops in front of a little tea shop. "Here's my place anyway. I rent out the back room. I'll have to sneak you in, so be quiet."


End file.
